


Night Terrors

by s1ncer1ty



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 15:11:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s1ncer1ty/pseuds/s1ncer1ty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fill for the Hobbit Kink meme.</p><p>Thorin takes over someone's watch because he can't sleep. He only steps away from camp for a minute but in that minute, he hears Kili scream. He runs back to camp, sword in hand, to see a shadowed figure crouching over his nephew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Terrors

Each member of the Company of dwarves slept lightly -- it was an occupational hazard when traveling such a dangerous road -- but none more so than the youngest of the group.  
  
Kili lay curled on his side, his legs twitching and eyes lolling back and forth beneath closed lids. Soft mewls escaped trembling lips, ceasing only when Thorin rolled the lad onto his back before he could pass into a full-fledged nightmare. Kili mumbled a few words of utter nonsense before his breathing evened out once more, and he fell silent.  
  
If only he'd had the ability to sleep as his brother did, content and quiet and untouched by night terrors.  
  
For that matter, Thorin himself found his own sleep troubled, for reasons he could not explain. A heart beating too loudly in his temples, thoughts that refused to settle. When he'd grown weary of fighting for even a few minutes of rest, he'd stood, relieving Bofur of watch for the night and taking it over of his own accord.  
  
The minutes seemed to stretch into hours, and as the flames to their fire began to die down, Thorin roused himself in search of fresh tinder. He'd only gone several yards from the camp, when a sharp cry -- _Kili!_ \-- split through the silence. Thorin dropped the small armful of sticks he'd gathered, and pulled his sword from its scabbard as he burst through the underbrush.  
  
Someone -- some _thing_ \-- dark and brooding loomed at the edge of Kili's bedroll, crouching over the young lad and shaking him by the shoulders.  
  
It happened in a heartbeat. In an instant, Thorin was hurtling himself toward the figure, a battle cry at the tip of his tongue -- to alert the rest of the Company to the danger within their very camp. And then, the creature turned.  
  
Glinting against the backdrop of the fire were metal clasps, fastened to twin mustache braids that swung as the figure spun his head around to face his attacker.  
  
 _By the gods, no..._  
  
Thorin pulled his swing, but the momentum continued to carry him forward, and several inches of sword plunged straight through his nephew's ribcage. Not a sound escaped Fili -- just pure shock and fear alighting on his face -- as he crumpled to the ground, blood feeding the dirt in a thick, spreading wave.  
  
"Uncle...?"  
  
Kili's eyes were wide, yet still glazed with sleep. He lifted a hand to his cheek, to wipe away the strange moisture that spattered his face -- not tears, nor sweat. His brows knitted as he struggled to comprehend the dark liquid that stained his fingertips.  
  
By then, the others were roused, and they circled the trio, some with weapons still in hand -- but all as shocked as Thorin.  
  
"Oin?" Thorin managed from between numbed lips. " _Oin_!"  
  
The elder dwarf was at his king's side without hesitation. "Step away, lads," he announced loudly. "Give the boy some room." He first dropped his head to Fili's chest, before pulling back his blood-spattered furs and tunic. "His leathers took much of the blade, but the wound is deep. It will need to be stitched closed."  
  
"And the likelihood of his survival?" said Thorin.  
  
Oin looked up, and the wizened face bore an expression of accusation. "That remains to be seen."

Thorin turned, then, upon Kili. "Why did you scream?" he demanded, voice beginning to border on hysteria. "Tell me why you screamed!"  
  
Kili's eyes darted from the crumpled, writhing form of his brother to his uncle's hard -- yet somehow desperate -- glare. "I was ... dreaming, I suppose. I don't remember. I don't understand -- Uncle, what have you _done_?"  
  
But Thorin could no longer speak, could no longer hold his nephew under his stern thrall, and Kili scrambled to his feet in order to kneel at their healer's side, grasping Fili's hand in his own and murmuring words of reassurance as Oin prepared a balm to soothe the pain.  
  
"Let Fili rest by the fire when you are done." Even to his own ears, his order was but a hollow shell of his usual determination. He pressed on, willing his voice not to crack. "Give him an extra blanket. And for heaven's sake, Kili, allow him room to breathe!"  
  
Kili's head snapped to face Thorin, and there was a hardness in his dark eyes that he'd never before seen. He surveyed the rest of the Company, then, only to see Kili's venom mirrored in the expressions of the others. Even old Balin glanced away when their gazes met, the disappointment from his longest and most loyal companion almost tangible.  
  
It was Dwalin who finally broke the silence, dropping a calloused hand to Thorin's shoulder. "Clean your sword," he uttered gruffly. "Don't let the blade rust."  
  
Thorin nodded, hardly aware he was even doing so, and allowed Dwalin to lead him away from the cluster of dwarves that surrounded Fili. His sword, dark with his nephew's blood, nearly dragged along the ground.  
  
Dwalin thrust a stained rag into his hands, murmuring, "No one blames you. 'Twas an unavoidable accident."  
  
Thorin only wished he could believe him.


End file.
